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FlfANCfS OAY 



COP''H<&H': '8^1 OY iftLOtfilCW * STOUC:. 



POINT LACE 



AND 



DIAMONDS 

By 

GEORGE A. BAKER, Jr. 

AUTHOR OF " THK BAD HABITS OF GOOD SOCIETY" " WEST POINTS ETC. 

With twelve facsimiles of water-color paintings by 

ERANCIS DAY 

Together with illustrations in black-aiid-white by 

various artists 




NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 
MDCCCXCIl 



x'^ -\ 



\ 



Copyright, 1S91, 

By Frederick A. S/o/ccs Company, 

New York. 




POKTRAIT OK FraNCIS DaY. 




.1/ •* *J- 



^' 



CONTENTS. 



An Idyl of the Pkriod . 
Retrospection- .... 

A Piece of Advk k 

A Refor.mer ...... 

Ix the Recorij Roo.m, Sukkog.aie's Okkic 

De Lunatico 

After the Ger.man' .... 

A Rosebud in Lent .... 
Pro Patria et Gloria .... 

A Song 

Making Xkw Year's Calls 

Fishing 

Jack and Me 

Les Enfants Perdl'S .... 

Frost-Bitten 

Christmas Greens .... 
Chinese Lanterns ..... 
Thoughts on the Co.mmand.ments 

Eight Hours 

Old Photographs 

Marriage a la Mode. A Trilogy. 



• 7 
8 

■ '3 
14 

■ "5 
■5 

. i6 

'9 



29 
30 
35 
36 
37 
38 
41 
42 



<"'. 



COXTKNTS. 



The " Stav-at-IIomk's" Plaint 
Sleeping Beauty . . . . 
Easter Morning .... 
The " Stav-at-Home's" P.kan . 

A Song 

" Le Dernier J(iur d in Conda.mne' 
Pyrotechnic Polyglot 
A Legend of St. Valentine . 
Matinal Musings .... 
An Afterthought . . . . 
The Mothers of the Sirens 

A Ro.MANCE OF THE SaWDUST . 

Nocturne 

Lake Mahopac — Saturday Night . 

Auto-da-Fe 

ZwEi Konige avf Orkada!. 

Chiyalrie 

Reductio ad Absurdu.m . 
Per Aspera ad Astra . 
The Language of Love . 



PAGE 

49 

■ 5° 

51 

• 55 
56 

• 57 
58 

. 61 
62 

. fu 

67 

. 67 

69 

• 73 
74 

. 76 
79 

• 79 
So 

. 82 





■^^ 



Point Lace and Diamonds. 



AN IDYL OF THE PERIOD. 



IN TWO I'ARTS. 



PART ONE. 



"Come right in. How are you, Fred? 

Find a chair, and get a light." 
"Well, old man, recovered yet 

From the Mather's jam last night? " 
" Didn't dance. The German's old.' 

" Didn't you? I had to lead — 
Awful bore: Did you go home? " 

" No. Sat out with Molly Meade. 
Jolly little girl she is — 

Said she didn't care to dance, 
'D rather sit and talk to me — 

Then she gave me such a glance ! 
So, when you had cleared the room, 

And impounded all the chairs. 
Having nowhere else, we two 

Took possession of the stairs. 



I was on the lower step, 

Molly, on the next above, 
Gave me her bouquet to hold. 

Asked me to undo her glove. 
Then, of course, I squeezed her hand, 

Talked about my wasted life ; 
'Ah! if I could only win 

Some true woman for my wife. 
How I'd love her — work for her! 

Hand in hand through life we'd walk- 
No one ever cared for me — ' 

Takes a girl — that kind of talk. 
Then, you know, I used my eyes — 

She believed me, every word — 
Said I 'mustn't talk so' — Jove! 

Such a voice you never heard. 
Gave me some symbolic flower, — 

' Had a meaning, oh, so sweet, ' — 



r 



Pf)INT LACE AND DIAMONDS. 



i 



Don't know where it is, I'm sure; 

Must have dropped it in the street. 
How I spooned I — And she — ha! ha I — 

Well, I know it wasn't right — 
Rut she pitied me so much 

That I — kl.ssed her — pass a light." 

PART TWO. 

"Moll)- Meade, well, I declare! 

Who'd have thought of seeing you, 
After what occurred last night, 

Out here on the Avenue! 
Oh, you awful ! awful girl '. 

There, don't blush, I saw it all." 
"vSaw all what?" "Ahem! last iiight- 

At the Mather's — in the hall." 
"Oh, you horrid — where were you? 

Wasn't he the biggest goose! 
Most men must be cauj^ht, but he 

Ran his own neck in the noose. 
I was almost dead to dance, 

I'd have done it if I could. 
But old Grey said I must stop, 

And I promised Ma I would. 



So I looked up sweet, and said 

That I'd rather talk to him; 
Hope he didn't see me laugh. 

Luckily the lights were dim. 
My, how he did squeeze my hand! 

And he looked up in my face 
W^ith his lovely big brown eyes — 

Really, it's a dreadful case. 
'Earnest!' — I should think he was! 

Why, I thought I'd have to laugh 
When he kissed a flower he to(jk, 

Looking, oh! like such a calf. 
I suppose he's got it now, 

In a wnne-glass on his shelves; 
It's a mystery to me 

Why men ^iv'// deceive themselves. 
'Saw him kiss me! ' — Oh, you wretch ; 

Well, he begged so hard for one — 
And I thought there'd no one know — 

So I — let him, just for fun. 
I know it really wasn't right 

To trifle with his feelings, dear, 
But men a/r such stuck-up things; 

He'll recover — never fear." 



RETROSPECTION. 



I'd wandered, for a week or more, 

Through hills, and dells, and doleful 
green 'ry, 
Lodging at any carnal door. 

Sustaining life on pork, and scenery. 
A w-eary scribe, I'd just let slip 

My collar, for a short vacation. 
And started on a walking trip. 

That cheapest form of dissipation — 



And vilest, oh! confess my pen, 

That I, prosaic, rather hate your 
"Ode to a Sky-lark" sort of men; 

I really am not fond of Nature. 
Mad longing for a decent meal 

And decent clothing overcame me; 
There came a blister on my heel — 

I gave it up; and who can blame 
me? 



KETKOSPECTIOX. 



^f'^^' 




- X 



"I OWE IT UP. AND WHO CAN BI.AMK ME'" 

Tlicn wrote my " Pulse of Nature's Heart, 
Whieh 1 procured some little cash on, 



And quickly packed me to depart 

In search of "gilded haunts" of fash- 
ion, 
Whieh I mii;-ht puff at ecjlumn rates, 

To please my host and meet my 
reckoning; 
" Base is the slave who " — hesitates 

When wealth and pleasure both are 
beckon in J/-, 



I sought ; I found. Among the swells 
I had my share of small successes, 

^lade languid love to languid belles 

And penri'd descriptions of their dresses. 

Ah I Millionairess Millicent, 

How fair you were! How you adored 
me! 




'Ah. Millionairess Millicent. how fair you were! 



lO POINT LACK AND DIAMONDS. 



How man)' tender hours we spent — Refracted by the frolic glass 

And, oh, beloved, how you bored me I Of Fancy, play with change incessant? 

APRU,. IS7I. JL;M.;, ,874. 



Is not that fragmentar_v bit 

Of my )-oung verse a perfect prism. 
Where worldly knowledge, pleasant wit, 

True humor, kindly cynicism, Aicust, 1S86, 



Great Caesar I "What a sweet young ass 
I must have been, when adolescent! 



"WHAT! GIVE UP FLIRTATION? CHANGE DIMPLES 

FOR FROWNS?" 

Painted by Francis Day. 




F R A tN c.t s O AY 



^ 



A PIECE OF ADVICE. 

So you're going to give up flirtation, my What! Give up flirtation? Change dim- 
dear, pies for frowns? 

And lead alife sober and quiet? Why, Nell, what's the use? You're so pretty, 

There, there, I don't doubt the intention's That your beauty all sense of your wicked- 
sincere, ness drowns. 




"The mischief your eyes have been making!' 



But wait till occasion shall try it. — 

Is Ramsay engaged? 

Now, don't look enraged! 
You like him, I know — don't deny it! 



When, some time, in country or city, 
Your fate comes at last. 
We'll forgive all the past. 

And think of you only with pity. 



14 



POINT LACK AM) DIAMnxDS. 



Irdeed I — so " you feel for the woes of my 
sex! " 
'The legions of hearts ycni've been 
breaking 
Yonr conscience affright, and your reckon- 
ing peq)lex 
Whene'er an accoinit you've been tak- 
ing!" 
" I'd scarcely believe 
How deeply you grieve 
At the mischief your eyes have been 
making! " 

Xow, Nellie! — Flirtation's the leaven of 
life; 
It lightens its doughy compactness. 
Don't always — the world with deception is 
rife — 
Construe what men say with exactness ! 
I pity the girl, 



In society's whirl, 
Who's troubled with matter-of-factness. 

A pink is a beautiful flower in its way. 

But rosebuds and violets are charming, 
^len don't wear the same Iwiitoiiniire every 
day, 
Taste changes. — Flirtation alarming! 
If e'er we complain. 
You then may refrain, 
Your eyes of their arrows disarming. 

Ah, Nellie, be sensible. Pr'ythee.give heed 

To counsel a victim advances ; 
Your eyes, I acknowledge, will make our 
hearts bleed, 
Pierced through by love's magical lances. 
But better that fate 
Than in darkness to wait. 
Unsought by your mischievous glances. 



A REFORMER. 



You call me trifler, faineant. 

And bid me give my life an aim! — 
You're most unjust, dear. Hear me out, 

And own your hastiness to blame. 
I live with but a single thought; 

My inmost heart and soul are set 
On one sole task — a mighty one — 

To simplify our alphabet. 



Five vowel sounds we use in speech ; 

They're A, and E, I, O, and U: 
I mean to cut them down to four. 

You "wonder what good that will do! 
Why, tliis cold earth will bloom again, 

Eden itself be half re-won. 
When breaks the dawn of my success 

And U and I at last are one. 



IN THE RECORD ROOM, SURROGATES OFFICE. 



A TiiMi: where lejjal ghouls yrow fat; 

Where buried papers, fold on fold, 
Crumble to dust, that 'thwart the sun 

Floats dim, a pallid ghost of gold. 
The day is dying. All about. 

Dark, threat'ning shadows lurk; but 
still 
I ponder o'er a dead girl's name 

Fast fading from a dead man's will. 

Katrina Harland, fair and sweet. 

Sole heiress of your father's land. 
Full many a gallant wooer rode 

To snare your heart, to win your hand. 
And one, perchance — who loved you best. 

Feared men might sneer — "besought 
her gold " — 
And never spoke, but turned away. 

Stubborn and proud, to call you cold. 



Cold ? Would I knew 1 Perliaps you 
loved, 

And mourned him all a virgin life. 
Perhaps forgot his ver\- name 

As happy mother, happy wife. 
Unanswered, sad, I turn away — 

"You loved her first, then?" First — 
well — no — 
You little goose, the Harland will 

Was proved full sixty years ago. 

But Katrine's lands to-day are known 

To lawyers as the Glass House tract; 
Who were her heirs, no record shows ; 

The title's bad, in point of fact. 
If she left children, at her death, 

I've been retained to clear the title; 
And all the questions, raised above, 

Are, you'll perceive, extremely vital. 



DE LUNATICO. 

The squadrons of the sun still hold 

The western hills, their armor glances, 
Their crimson banners wide unfold. 

Low-levelled lie their golden lances. 
The shadows lurk along the shore. 

Where, as our row-boat lightly passes, 
The ripples, startled by our oar. 

Hide murmuring 'neath the hanging 
grasses. 

Your eyes are downcast, for the light 
Is lingering on your lids — forgetting 

How late it is — for one last sight 
Of you the sun delays his setting. 




'Th 



HE shadows! f.r- 

URK ALONG I '. 
HE SHORE.' «1 . 



16 



I'OINT l.ACl-; AMI DIA.NKJMIS. 



One hand droops idly from the boat, 

And round the white and swaying;- 
fini,^ers, 

Like half-blown lilies yone afloat, 
The ainorons water, toyini^', lin^-ers. 

I see you smile liehind vour book, 

Your gentle eyes eoneealiny, nnder 
Their drooping- lids a laughing look 

That's partly fun, and partly wonder 
That I, a man of presence grave. 

Who fight for bread 'neath Themis' 
l)anner 
vShonld all at once begin to rave 

In this — I trust — Aldrichian manner. 

They say our lake is — sad, but true — 
The mill-pond of a Yankee village, 



Its swelling shores devoted to 

The various forms of kitchen tillage ; 

That you're no more a maiden fair. 
And I no lover, young and glowing; 

Just an old, sober, married nair, 

Who, after tea, have gone out rowing. 

Ah, dear, when memories, old and sweet. 
Have fooled m_v reason thus, believe 
me. 
Your eyes can only help the cheat. 

Your smile more thoroughly deceive 
me. 
I think it well that men, dear wife, 

Are sometimes with such madness 
smitten, 
Klse little joy would be in life, 
And little poetr\' be written. 



AFTER THE GERMAN. 

A SOPHO.MORE SOLILOQUY. 

Blackboard, with ruler and rubber before When fairy musicians are playing the 

me, "Mabel," 

Chalk loosely held in my hand. And waltzes each nerve in ni}- lirain! 

Sun-gilded motes in the air all around 

me. 

Listlessly dreaming I stand. 

That only last night sparkled there. 

What do I care for the problem I've By the galop's wild whirl shower'd down 

written on my shoulder 

In characters gracefully slight. From turbulent tresses of hair. 

As the festal -robed beauties whose fairy 



On my coat's powdered chalk, not the dust 
of the diamond 



feet flitted 
Through the maze of the German last 
night! 

What do I care for the lever of friction, 
For sine, or co-ordinate plane 



In my car is the clatter of chalk against 
blackboard. 
Not music's voluptuous swell ; 
Alas I this is life, — so pass mortal plea.snres. 
And, — thank goodness, there goes the 
bell' 



"SEE HER AT PRAYER. HER PLEADING HANDS 
BEAR NOT ONE GEM OF ALL HER STORE." 

Painted bv Francis Da v. 





Lif fHLZiLH.Zr, A SIO/- 



A ROSEBUD m LF.NT. 



You saw her last, the ball-room's belle, 
A soiifflf, lace and roses blent ; 

Your worldly worship moved her then ; 
She does not know von now, in Lent. 



Turn, turn away! But carry hence 
The lesson she has dumbly taught — 

That briufht yoimg creature kneeling there 
With every feeling, every thought 



r- 




1 



"YOU SAW HKK LAST, THE BAU,-R00M'S BELLE.' 



See her at praj-er! Her pleading hands 
Bear not one gem of all her store. 

Her face is saint-like. Be rebuked 
By those pure eyes, and gaze no more. 



Absorbed in high and holy dreams 
Of — new Spring dresses, truth to say 

To them the time is sanctified 

From Shrove-tide until Easter day. 




PRO PATRIA ET GLORIA. 



TnK Hi,dits blaze hioh in our brilliant 
rooms ; 
Fair arc the maidens who throng our 
halls ; 
Soft, through the warm and perfumed air, 

The languid music swells and falls. 
The " Seventh" dances and flirts to-night — 

All we are fit for, so they say, 
We fops and weaklings, who masquerade 
As soldiers, sometimes, in black and 
gray. 

We can manage to make a street parade. 

But, in a fight, we'd be sure to run. 
Defend you! pshaw, the thought's absurd! 

How about April, sixty-one? 
What was it made your dull blood thrill? 

Why did you cheer, and weep, and pray ? 
Why did each pulse of your hearts mark 
time 

To the tramp of the boys in black and 
gray ? 

You've not forgotten the nation's call 
When down in the South the war-cloud 
burst ; 
" Troops for the front I" 1 )o you ever think 
Who answered, and marched, and got 
there first 1 
Whose bayonets first scared Maryland? 



Whtjse were the colors that showed the 
way ? 
Who .set the .step for the marching North? 
S(ime holiday soldiers in black and 
gray. 

" Pretty boys in their pretty suits I " 

" Too pretty by far to take imder fire I " 
A pretty boy in a pretty suit 

Lay once in Bethel's bloody mire. 
The first to fall in the war's first fight — 

Raise him tenderly. Wash awa}- 
The blood and mire from the pretty suit ; 

For Winthrop died in the black and 
gray. 

In the shameftil days in sixty-three. 

When the city fluttered in abject fear, 
'Neath the mob's rude grasp, who ever 
thought — 

"God I if the Seventh were only here I" 
Our drums were heard — the ruffian crew 

Grew tired of riot the self-same day — 
By chance of course — you don't suppose 

They feared the dandies in black and 
gray ! 

So we dance and flirt in our listless style 
While the waltzes dream in the drill- 
room arch. 



PRO PATRIA ET GLORIA. 



2 1 



What would we do if the order came, 
Sudden and sharp — " Let the vSeventh 
march! " 
Why, we"d faint, of course; our cheeks 
would pale 
Our knees would tremble, our fears — 
but stay 
That order I think has come ere this 
To those holiday troops in black and 
gray. 



"What would we do!" We'd drown our 
drums 

In a storm of cheers, and the drill-room 
floor 
Would ring with rifles. Why, you fools. 

We'd do as we've always done before! 
Do our duty ! Take what comes 

With laugh and je.st, be it feast or fray — ■ 
But we're dandies — yes, for we'd rather die 
Than sully the pride of our black and gray. 




A SONG. 




I sHdri.nx'T like to say, 

I'm sure, 

I shouldn't like to say, 

Why I think of you more, 

and more, and more 

As day flits after day. 

Nor why I see in the 

summer skies 
Only the beauty of y(nu- 
sweet eyes. 
The power by which you swa}- 
A kingdom of hearts, that little you prize — 
T shouldn't like to say. 

I shouldn't like to say, I'm sure, 

I shouldn't like to say 
Why I hear your voice, so fre.sh and piire. 
In the dash of the laughing spray. 



Nor why the wavelets that all the while. 
In many a diamond-glittering file, 

With truant sunbeams play. 
.Should make me remember your rippling 
smile — 

I shouldn't like to say. 

I shouldn't like to say, I'm sure, 

I shouldn't like to say, 
Why all the birds sliould chirp of you, 

Who live so far away. 
Robin and oriole sing to me 
From the leafy depths of our apple- 
tree, 

With trunk so gnarled and gray — 
But why your name should their burden 
be 

I shouldn't like to say. 



MAKING NEW YEAR'S GALLS. 



Shixino patent-leather. 

Tie of spotless white; 
Through the muddy weather 

Rushing 'round till night. 
Gutters all o'erflowing, 

Like Niagara Falls; 
Bless me! this is pleasant. 

Making New Year's calls. 

Rushing up the door-step, 
Ringing at the bell — 

" Mrs. Jones receive to-day?" 
"Yes, sir." "\'ery well." 



.Sending in your pasteboard. 
Waiting in the halls. 

Bless me! this is pleasant. 
^Making New Year's calls. 

Skipping in the parlor. 

Bowing to the floor. 
Lady of the house there 

Half a dozen more ; 
Ladies" dresses gorgeous, 

I'aniers, waterfalls, — 
Bless me! this is plea.sant, 

Makintr New Year's calls. 



MARINd NEW YEAR S CALLS. 



23 



" Wish you Happy New Year " — • 

" Many thanks, I'm sure." 
" Many calls, as usual?" 

"No; I think they're fewer." 
Staring at the carpet, 

Gazing at the walls; 
Bless me! this is pleasant, 

Making Xew Year's calls. 

" Really, I must go now. 

Wish I had more leisure." 
" Wont you have a glass of wine? " 

" Ah, thanks ! — greatest pleasure. " 
Try to come the graceful. 

Till yuuv wine-glass falls; 
Bless me I this is pleasant. 

Making New Year's calls. 

Hostess looks delighted — 

Out of doors you rush ; 
Sit down at the crossing, 

In a sea of slush. 



Job here for your tailor — 
Hcrr Von Schneiderthals — 

Bless me ! this is pleasant. 
Making New Year's calls. 

Pick yourself up slowly, 

Heart with anguish torn ; 
Sunday-go-to-meetings 

In a state forlorn. 
Kick a gibing boot-black. 

Gibing boot-black bawls. 
Bless niel this is pleasant, 

JIaking New Year's calls. 

Home, and woo the downy. 

But your soul doth quake. 
At most fearful night-marcs — 

Turkey, oysters, cake. 
While each leaden horror 

That your rest appalls. 
Cries, "Dear heart! how pleasant. 

Making New Year's calls." 



"READING? YF.S, BUT NOT FROM A NOVFX. 
FISHING! TRULY, BUT NOT WITH A ROD." 

Painted bv Francis Daw 



mJiir.. 




f « 



FISHING. 



Over the mosses, gray and green. 



n 



" H.^RRv, where have you been all morn- It causes his words to be softly spoken, 

ing? " With many a lingering jDaiise between, 

"Down at the pool in the meadow- The while the sunbeam, chase the shad- 
brook." ows 
"Fishing?" "Yes, but the trout were 
wary. 
Couldn't induce them to take a hook. " 
"Why, look at your coat! You must have 
fallen. 
Your back's just covered with leaves 
and moss." 
How he laughs! Good-natured fellow I 
Fisherman's luck makes most men cross. 



" Nellie, the Wrights have called. Where 
were you? " 
" Under the tree, by the meadow-brook, 
Reading, and oh, it was too lovely; 

I never saw such a charming book." 
The charming book must have pleased 
her, truly, 
There's a happy light in her bright 
young eyes, 
And she hugs the cat with unusual fervor 
To staid old Tabby's intense surprise. 

Reading? j-es, but not from a novel. 

Fishing! truly, but not with a rod. 
The line is idle, the book neglected — 

The water-grasses whisper and nod. 
The fi.sherman bold and the earnest reader 

Sit talking — of what ? Perhaps the 
weather. 
Perhaps — no matter — whate'er the subject, 

It brings them remarkably close to- 
gether. 




'The fairest prize ever brought from a 
morning's fishing." 

Blushes are needful for its discussion, 
And soft, shy glances from downca.st 
eyes. 

In whose blue depths are lying hidden 
Loving gladness, and sweet surprise. 



28 



I'OINT LACIi AM) DIAMONDS. 



Trinil}- Chaj)!.'! is sray this evcninj;', The rinj,^ is on, the vows are spoken, 

l-'illed with beauty, and flowers, and And sniilini^- friends, '^nnd fortune 

li(;-ht, wishing-, 

A cajHivc fisherman stands at the altar. Tell liim his is the fairest prize 

With Nellie beside him all in white. Ever brought from a morning's fishing. 



lACK AND MK. 



Shine! — All right; here y'are, boss! 

Do it for jest five eents. 
Get 'em fixed in a minute, — 

That is, 'f nothing perwents. 
Set your foot right there, sir. 

Morniii's kinder eold, — 
Goes right through a feller, 

When his coat's a-gittin' old. 
Well, yes, — eall it a eoat, sir. 

Though 'taint much more'n a tear; 
(iit another! — I can't, bo.ss; 

Aint got the stamps to spare. 
" Make as much as most on 'em !" 

Yes ; but then, yer see, 
They've only got one to do for, — 

There's two on us. Jack and me. 
Him?— Why, that little feller 

With a curus lookin' back, 
vSittin' there on the gratin', 

Warmin' hisself, — that's Jack. 
Used to go round sellin' papers, 

The cars there was his lay ; 
But he got shoved off of the platform 

Under the wheels, one dav. 



Fact, — the conductor did it, — 

Gin him a reg'lar throw, — 
He didn't care if he killed him; 

Some on 'em is just .so. 
He's never been all right since, sir, 

Sorter quiet and queer; 
Him and me goes together, 

He's what they call cashier. 
Style, that 'ere, for a boot-black, — 

Made the fellers laugh; 
Jack and me had to take it. 

But we don't mind no chaff. 
Trouble! — not much, you bet, boss' 

Sometimes, when biz is slack, 
I don't know how I'd manage 

If 't wa'n't for little Jack. 
You jest once orter hear him: 

He says we needn't care 
How rough luck is down here, sir. 

If s(mie day we git up there. 
All clone now, — how's that, sir? 

Shines like a pair of lamps. 
Mornin' ! — Give it to Jack, sir, 

He looks after the stamps. 




LES ENFANTS PERDUS. 



What has become of the children all ? 

How have the clarlin;^'s vanished ? 
Fashion's pied piper, with ma.t;ical air, 
Has wooed them away, witli their flaxen 

hair 
And lauyhintf eyes, we don't know where. 
And no one can tell where they're ban- 
ished. 

"Where are the children?" cries Madam 
Haut-ton, 
"Allow me, my sons and dans^hters, — 
Fetch them, Annette!" What, madam, 

those? 
Children! such exquisite belles and beaux: 
True, tliey're in somewhat shorter clothes 
Than the most of Dame Fashion's sup- 
porters. 

Good day. Master Eddy! Young man 

about town, — 
A merchant down in the swamp's son ; 
In a neat little book he makes neat little 

bets ; 
He doesn't believe in the shop cijjarettes. 



But does his own rolling, — and has for his 
pets 
Miss Markham and Lydia Thompson. 

He and his comrades can drink champagne 
Like so many juvenile Comuses; 

If you want to insult him, just talk of boys' 
play, — 

Why, even on billiards he's almost bhue. 

Drops in at Delmonico's three times a daj', 
And is known at Jerry Thomas's. 

And here comes Miss Agnes. Good morn- 
ing I " Bon jour .' " 
Xow, isn't that vision alarming? 
Silk with panier, and puffs, and lace 
Decking a figure of corsetted grace; 
Her words are minced, and her spoiled 
yoimg face 
Wears a simper far from charming. 

Thirteen only a month ago, — 

Notice her conversation : 
Fashion — that bonnet of Nellie Perroy'.s — 
And now, in a low, confidential voice, 



I'OINT I.All', AMI niAMiiNUS. 



Of Helena's treatment of Tommy Joyce— Folly fillingf each curly head, 
Aged twelve — that's the last flirtation. Premature vices, childhood dead, 




'That ronnkt of Nf.i.i.ie Pl'rroy's." 



What has become of the children, then? 
How can an answer be ^;iven? 



Blighted blossoms — can it be said 
"Of siii/i is the kintidom of heaven?' 



FROST-BITTEN. 




The white flakes fluttered about our lamps; 
Our wheels were hushed in the sleeping 
snow. 

Her white arms nestled amid her furs; 

Her hands half-held, with languid grace, 
Her fading roses ; fair to see 

Was the dreamy look in her sweet, young- 
face. 



Wk. were driving home from the " Patri- I watched her, saying never a word, 

archs' " — For I would not waken those dreaming 

Molly Lcfevre and I, you know; eyes. 



1-RUST- BITTEN. 31 



The breath of the roses filled the air, And, low as the voice of a Summer 

And my thoughts were many, and far rill, 

from wise. Her answer came. It was — "Yes, per- 

haps — 
At last I said to her, bendiny near. But who would settle our carriage bill? " 

" Ah, Molly Lef^vre, how sweet 'twould 

be The dying roses breathed their last, 

To ride on dreaming, all our lives, Our wheels rolled loud on the stones 

Alone with the roses — you and me. ' just then. 

Where the snow had drifted; the subject 
Her sweet lips faltered, her sweet ej-es dropped. 

fell, It has never been taken up again. 



"A LADY IN SEALSKIN— EYES OF BLUE, 

AND TANGLED TRESSES OF SNOW-FLECKED GOLD." 

Painted by Francis Daw 





-'%»■»» 



CHRISTMAS GREENS. 




So h 
And 



( III. LM\vhur\' pastor is 
fair and young-, 
By far too good for a 
single lite, 
And many a maiden, 
\l saith gossip's tongue. 

Would fain be Low- 
bury pastor's wife: 
is book-marks are 'broidered in crim- 
son and gold, 
his slipjjers are, reall_\% a " sight to 
behold. " 



That's Lowbury pastor sitting there 

On the cedar boughs b\- the chancel rails; 

His face is clouded with carking care, 
For it's nearly five, the daylight fails — 

The church is silent, — the girls all gone. 

And the Christmas wreaths not nearly 
done. 



A lady in seal-skin — eyes of blue, 

And tangled tresses of snow-flecked 
gold- 
She speaks, " Good gracious I can this be 
you. 
Sitting alone in the dark and cold? 
The rest all gone! Why it wasn't right; 
These texts will never be done to-night." • 

.She sits her down at her pastor's feet, 
And, wreathing evergreen, weaves her 
wiles. 
Heart-piercing glances bright and fleet, 
Soft little sighs, and shy little smiles; 
But the pastor is solemnly sulky and glum, 
And thinketh it strange that " she " doesn't 
come. 

Then she tells him earnestly, soft and 
low, 
How she'd do licr part in tliis world of 
strife. 
And humbly look to him to know 

The path that her feet should tread 
through life — 
Her pastor yawneth behind his hat, 
And wondereth what she is driving at. 



Two tiny boots crunch-crunch the snow. 
They saucily stamp at the transept door, 

And then up to the pillared aisle they go 
Pit-pat, click-clack, on the marble floor — 

A lady fair doth that pastor see. 

And he saith, "Oh, bother, it isn't she I " 



Crunch-crunch again on the snow outside- 
The pastor riseth unto his feet. 

The vestry door is opened wide, 

A dark-eyed maid doth the pastor greet ; 

And that lady fair can see and hear 

Her pastor kiss her, and call her " dear." 



I'OINT J.ACI-; AND DIAMONDS. 



"Why, Maud!" "AVhy, Nelly 
damsels cry ; 
But lo, what troubles that lady fair? 
On Nelly's fintjer there meets her eye 

The glow of a diamond solitaire, 
And she thinks, as she sees the glittcrin;. 
rin.o-, 



those There sit they all 'neath the Christmas- 
tree, 
For ]\Iaud is determined that she wont 

K" ; 
The pastor is cross as a man can be. 

And Nelly would like to pinch her so ; 
And thev eo on wreathintr the text again — 



"And so she's 
thine ! " 



jt him — the hatefr.l It is 



Peace on earth and good-will 
towards men." 




CHINESE LANTERNS. 



Through the windows on the park 
Float the waltzes, weirdly sweet; 
In the light, and in the dark, 

Rings the chime of dancing feet. 
Mid the branches, all a-row, 
Fiery jewels gleam and glow; 
Dreamingly we walk beneath, — 
Ah, so slow! 



Ah I those deep, alluring eyes, 

Quiet as a haunted lake ; 
In their depths the passion lies 
Half in slumber, half awake. 

Lay thy warm, white hand in mine. 
Let the fingers clasp and twine. 
While my eager, panting heart 
Beats 'gainst thine. 



All the air is full of love ; 

Misty shadows wrap us round ; 
Light below and dark above. 

Filled with softly-surging sound. 
See the forehead of the Night 
Garlanded with flowers of light. 
And her goblet crowned with wine. 
Golden brieht. 



Bring thy velvet lips a-near, 

Mine are himgrj- for a kiss, 
Gladly will I sate them, dear; 
Closer, closer, — this, — and this. 
On thy lips love's seal I lay. 
Nevermore to pass away; — 
That was all last night, you know. 
But to-dav 



THOUGHTS 0.\ THE COMMANDMENTS. 



17 



Chinese lanterns hung in strings, 

Painted paper, penny dips, — 
Filled with roasted moths and things, 
Greasy with the tallow drips. 
Wet and torn, with rusty wire, 
Blackened by the dying fire , 
Withered flowers, trampled deep 
In the mire. 



Chinese lanterns, Bernstein's band, 

Belladonna, lily white. 
These made up the fairy-land 
Where I wandered all last night ; 
Ruled in all its rosy glow 
By a merry Queen, you know. 
Jolly, dancing, laughing, witching, 
Veuve Cliquot. 



THOUGHTS ON THE COMMANDMENTS. 



"Love your neighbor as yourself,"— 

So the parson preaches ; 
That's one-half the Decalogue, — 

So the Prayer-book teaches. 
Half my duty I can do 

With but little labor. 
For with all my heart and .soul 

I do love my neighbor. 

Mighty little credit, that. 

To mj' self-denial ; 
Not to love her, though, might be 

Something of a trial. 
Why, the rosj' light, that peeps 

Through the glass above her, 
Lingers round her lips: — you see 

E'en the sunbeams love her. 

So to make my merit more 

I'll go beyond the letter; 
Love my neighbor as myself 

Yes, and ten times better. 
For she's sweeter than the breath 

Of the Spring, that passes 
Through the fragrant, budding woods. 

O'er the meadow-gra.sses. 




'■ For \vn II all .mv heart and soul 

I DO LOVE MY NEIGHBOR." 

And I've preached the word I know, 

For it was my duty 
To convert the stubborn heart 

Of the little beauty. 
Once again success has crowned 

Missionary labor. 
For her sweet eyes own that she 

Also loves her neighbor. 



Kir.HT HOURS. 



" Sign the petition ! " " Write my name : " 
"She said, ask me I" — «h, she's fooliny; 
Where do yoii think a oirl like me 

Could find the time for so much school- 
ing? 
Why, I've been here sinec I was eight or 
so — 
That's ten years now — and it seems like 
longer ; 
The hours are from eight till six — you see 

It wears one out — I once was stronger. 
"A bad coughl " Oh, that's nothing, sir; 
It comes from the dust, and bending 
over. 
It hurts me sometimes — no, not now. 

" This! " why, a flower, a bit of clover; 
I picked it up as I came to work — 

It grew in the grass in some one's airy. 
Where it stood, and nodded all alone 
Like a little green-cloaked, white- 
capped fairy. 
" Fond of flowers! " I like them — yes — 
Though, gcjodness knows, I don't see 
many — 
I'd have to buy them — they cost so much — 

And I never can spare a single penny. 
" (io to the park! " — how can I, sir? 

The only day that I have is vSunday ; 
And then there's always so much to do 
That before I know it, almost, it's Mon- 
day. 



Like it, sir, like it I — why, when I tliink 
( )f the woods, and the brook with the 
cattle drinking — 
I was country-bred, sir — my heart swells 
so 
That I — there, there, what's the u.se of 
thinking! 
If I could write, sir — "make a cross. 

And let you Avrite my name below 
it"— 
No, please; I'm ashamed I can't, some- 
tiiTies — 
I don't want all the girls to know it. 
And what's the use of it, anyway? 

They'll just say .shorth", with careless 
faces, 
" If you're not suited, you'd better 
leave " — 
There's plenty of girls to fill our places. 
They're kind enough to their own, no 
doubt — 
Our head jvist worships his own )'oung 
daughter, 
Just my age, sir — she's gone away 

To spend the vSummer across the water. 
But us — oh, well, we're only "hands," 
Do you think to please us they'll bear 
losses? 
Xo, not a cent's worth — ah, you'll see — 
I'm a working girl, sir, and I know 
bosses. 



"HOW THE OLD PORTRAITS TAKE YOU BACK." 
Painted bv Francis Daw 






I 




UP 





f^r! 



'.-*! 1691 8V FREDEftlCH A STOi- 



OLD PHOTOGRAPHS. 



Old lady, put your glasses on, 

With polished lenses, mounting golden, 
And once again look slowly through 

The album olden. 



Why, who is this, the bright coquette? 

Her eyes with Love's bright arrows 
laden — 
" Poor Nell, she's living single yet, — 

An ancient maiden. " 




How the old portraits take you back 

To friends who once would 'round you 
gather — 

All .scattered now, like frosted leaves 
In blusterinjr weather. 



And this, the fragile poetess? 

Whose high soul-yearnings nought can 
smother — 
" .She's stouter far than I am now, 

A kind grandmother." 

Who is this girl with flowing curls, 
Who on the golden tuture muses? 

" What splendid hair she had I — and now 
A 'front' she uses." 

And this? " Why, if it's not my own ; 

And did I really e'er resemble 
That bright young creature? Take the 
book — 

!My old hands tremble. 



" It seems that only yesterday 

We all were young; ah, how 
passes! " 

Old lady, put the album down, 
And wipe your glasses. 



time 



MARRIAGE A LA MODE. 



A TRILOGY. 



I. 
love's young dream. — a. d. iSSo. 

"Thank you — much obliged, old hoy, 

Yes, it's so; report says true. 
I'm engaged to Nell Latine — 
What else could a fellow do? 
Governor was getting fierce; 
Asked me, with 
paternal frown. 
When I meant to go 
to work, 
Take a wife, and 
settle down. 
Stormed at my extra- 
vagance. 
Talked of cutting 
off supplies — 
Fairly bullied me, 
you know — 
Sort of thing that 
I despise. 
Well, you see, I lost 
worst Avay 
At the races — Gov- 
ernor raged — 
So, to try and smooth 
him down, 
I went off, and got engaged. 
Sort of jnit-up job, you know — 
All arranged with old Latine- 
Nellie raved about it first, 

Said her 'pa was awful mean! 




J-^^. 



C'Al.l. -1 lIKkK (Il-'IKN, SIT .■\NIi CH.VV 



Now it's done we don't much mind — 

Tell the truth. I'm rather glad; 
Looking at it every way. 

One inust own it isn't bad. 
She's good-looking, rather rich, — 

Mother left her quite a pile ; 
Dances, goes out everywhere ; 
Fine old family, real good style. 

Then she's good, as 
girls go now, 
Some idea of wrong 
and right, 
Don't let every man 
she meets 
1^^ Kiss her, on the 

^ A self-same night. 

We don't do aft'ection 
much, 
Nell and I are real 
good friends, 
Call there often, sit 
and chat. 
Take her 'round, 
and there it ends. 
Spooning I Well, I 
tried it once — 
Acted like an awful 
calf— 
Said I really loved her. Gad! 

You should just ha\-e heard her laugh. 
Why, slie ran me for a month, 

Teased me till she made me wince; 
'Mustn't flirt with her,' she said. 



MARRIAGE A LA MODE. 



43 



So I haven't tried it since. 
'Twould be pleasant to be loved 

Like )-ou read about in book.s — 
Minnling- souls, and tender eyes — 

Love, and that, in all their looks; 
Thoughts of you, and no one else ; 

Voice that has a tender rinjj. 
Sacrifices made, and — well — 

You know — all that sort of thing. 
That's all worn-out talk, they sa)-, 

Don't see any of it now — 
Spooning on yonr Jiana'c 

Isn't good style, anyhow. 
Just suppose that one of us, — 

Nell and me, you know — some day 
Got like that on some one else — 

Might be rather awkward — eh! 
All in earnest, like the books — 

Wouldn't it be awful rough! 
Jove! if I— but pshaw, what bosh! 

Nell and I are safe enough. — 
Some time in the Spring, I think; 

Be on hand to wish us joy'? 
Be a groomsman, if you like — 

Lots of wine — good-bye, old b<;y." 

II. 

UP THF. AISI.K. A. I). I 88 1. 

Takf. my cloak — and now fix my veil, 
Jenny ,— 

How silly to cover one's face! 
I might as well be an old woman. 

But then there's one comfort — it's lace. 
Well, what has become of those ushers? — 

Oh, Pa, have you got my bouquet.' 
I'll freeze standing here in the lobby. 

Why doesn't the organist play? 



They've started at last— what a bustle! 
Stop, Pa!— they're not far enough- 
wait ! 
One minute more— now! Do keep step, 
Pa! 
There, drop my trail, Jane!— is it 
straight? 
I hope I look timid, and shrinking! 

The church must be perfectly full — 
Good gracious, plea.se don't walk .so fa.st, 
Pa! 
He don't seem to think that trains pull. 
The chancel at la.st — mind the .step, Pa! — 

I don't feel embarrassed at all — 
But, my! What's the minister saying? 

Oh, I know, that part 'bout Saint Paul. 
I hope my position is graceful — 

How awkwardly Nelly Dane stood ! 
" Not lawfully be joined together. 

Now .speak " — as if any one would. 
Oh, dear, now it's my turn to answer — 

I do wish that Pa would stand still. 
" Serve him, love, honor, and keep him"— 

How sweetly he says it — I will. 
Where's Pa?— there, I knew he'd forget it 
When the time came to give me away — 
" I, Helena, take thee — love — cherish — 
And " — well, I can't help it, — "obey." 
Here, Maud, take my bouquet — don't 
drop it — 
I hope Charley's not lost the ring! 
Just like him.' — no — goodness, how heavy! 

It's really an elegant thing. 
It's a shame to kneel down in white satin — 
And the flounce real old lace — bu: I 
must — 
I hope that they've got a clean cushion, 
They're usually covered with dust. 



44 



POINT LACK AM) I iIA.Mi >.\T)S. 



All over — ah, thanks! — now, don't fuss, 

Pa :— 

Just throw back my veil, Charley — 
there ! 
Oh, bother! Why couldn't he kiss nic 

Without niussinti' up all my hair! 
Your arm, Charley, there ;<j;oes the organ — 
Who'd think there would be such a 
crowd ! 




"YOUK AkM, CHAKI.KV, THKKK l:0£S THE ORGAN." 

( )h, I mustn't look round, I'd forgotten, — 

vSee, Charley, who was it that bowed? 
Why — it's Nellie Allaire, with her 
husband — ■ 

She's awfully jealous, I know; 
Most all of my things were imported, 

And she had a home-made trousseau. 
And there's Annie Wheeler — Kate 
Hermon — 

I didn't expect her at all — - 
If .she's not in that same old blue satin 

She wore at the Charity Ball I 
Is that Fanny Wade? — Edith Pommeton — 

And Emma, and Jo — all the girls! 
I knew they'd not miss my wedding — 

I hope they'll all ntjtice my pearls. 



Is the carriage there? — give me my cloak, 
Jane, 

Don't get it all over my veil — 
No! you take the other seat, Charley — 

I need all t)f this for my trail. 

III. 

Ill\C)Kl-l,. .\. 1). 1886. 

The Club li '/Jiifow. 
"Yks, I saw her ])ass with "that scoun- 
drel'— 

For heaven's sake, old man, keep cool! 
No end of the fellows are watching — 

Go easy, don't act like a fool! 
' Parading jvy«/- shame!' — I don't see it. 

It's /n-rs now, alone; for at last 
You drove her to give you good rea.son, 

Divorced her, and so it's all passed. 
For juu, I mean; she has to bear it — 

Poor child — the reproach and the shame ; 
I'm 3'our friend — but come, hang it, old 
fellow, 

I swear you were somewhat to blame. 
'What the deuce do I mean?' Well, I'll 
tell you. 

Though it's none of my business. Here ! 
Just light a cigar, and keep quiet — 

You startiJ wrong, Charley Leclear. 
You weren't in love when you married — 

'Nor she!' — well, I know, but she tried 
To keep it dark. You wouldn't let her, 

But laughed at her for it. Her pride 
Wouldn't stand that, you know. Did you 
ever 

See a spirited girl in your life. 
Who would patiently pose to be pitied 

As a "patient Griselda'-like wife 



MARRIAGE A LA MODE. 



45 



When her husband neglects her so plainly 

As 3'ou did? — although, on the whole, 
When the wife is the culprit, I've noticed 

It's rather the favorite role. 
So she flirted a little— in piiblic— 

She'd chances enough and to spare, 
Ah, then if you'd only turned jealous— 

But you didn't notice nor care. 
Then her sickness came — even we fellows 

All thought you behaved like a scrub. 
Leaving her for the nurse to take care of. 

While you spent your time at the club. 
She never forgave you. How could she? 

If I'd been in her place myself, 
By Jove, I'd have left you. She didn't, 

But told all her woes to Jack Guelph. 
When a girl's lost all love for her husband, 

And is cursed with a masculine friend 
To confide in, and he is a blackguard, 

She isn't far off from the end. 



You were right enough there — she'd 
levanted 
With Guelph, and you'd no other course. 
What I mean is, if you'd acted squarely. 

The row would have never occurred, 
And iox you to be doing the tragic 

Strikes me as a little absurd. 
As it stands, j-ou've the best of the 
bargain, 
And she's got a good deal the worst; 
Leave it there, and— ju.st touch the bell, 
will you? 
You're nearest. I'm dying of thirst." 

IV. 

.\T AI-TERNOOX TKA. 

'"In New York!' Yes, I met her this 
morning. 
I knew her in .spite of her paint; 




'SHE 13 .N'T FAR OFF FROM THE END. 



Oh, I •mthrough-of..«m- nobody blamed And Guelph, too, poor fellow, was with 

her; 



vou 



In the end. when you got your divorce- I felt really nervous, and faint, 



46 



POINT LACK AND DIAMONDS. 



When he bowed to nie, looking;- .w ])k'ad- 
injj— 

I tnit him, of course. Wouldn't vou? 
If I meet him alone, I'll explain it; 

Hut knowing- li,-i\ what could I do? 
Poor fellow! He look.s sadly altered — 

I think it a sin, and a shame, 
The way he was wrecked by that cr>-atiir,- : 

I know he was never to blame. 
He never suspected. He liked her — 

He'd known her for most of his life — 
And, of course, it vns quite a temptation 

To run off with another man's wife. 
At his age, 3-ou know — barelv thirty — 

vSo romantic, and makes such a noise 
In one's club — why, one can't but cxcu.se 
him. 

Now can one, dear? Roys will be boys. 
I've known him so long — why, he'd come 
here 

And talk to mc just like a son. 
It's my duty — I feel as a mother — 

To save him ; the thing- can be done 
Very easily. First, I must show him 

How grossly the woman deceived 
And entrapped him. — It made such a 
scandal, 



You know, that he can' t be received 
At all, any more, till he drops her — 

He'll certainly not be so mad 
As to hold to her .still. Oh, I know him 

>So well — I'm quite sure he'll be glad, 
( )n any excuse, to oblige me 

In a matter so trifling indeed. 
Then the way will be clear. We' II receive 
him, 

And the rest will soon follow our lead. 
We must keep our eyes on him more closely 

Hereafter; 3'oung men of his wealth 
And position are .so sorely tempted 

To waste time, and fortune, and health 
In frivolous pleasures and pastimes. 

That there's but one safeguard in life 
l-'or them and their money — we've seen it — 

A really nice girl for a wife. 
Too bad you've no daughter! My ]\Ianiie 

Had influence with him for good 
Before this affair — when he comes here 

She'll meet him, I'm sure, as she 
.should — 
That is, as if nothing had happened — 

And greet him with sisterly joy; 
Between us I know we can sa-ce him. 

I'll write him to-morrow, poor boy." 



"THE FEET THAT KISSED ITS PAVEMENT 
ARE DEEP IN COUNTRY GRASS." 

Painted bv Fill lie is Daw 



THE "STAY-AT-HOMES" PLAINT. 



The Spring has grown to Summer; 

The sun is fierce and high ; 
The city shrinks, and withers 

Beneath the burning sky, 
Aihxntus trees are fragrant, 

And thicker shadows cast. 
Where berry-girls, with voices shrill. 

And watering-carts go past. 

In offices like ovens 

We sit without our coats ; 
( Hir cuiTs are moist and shapeless, 

No collars bind our throats. 
We carry huge umbrellas 

On Broad Street and on Wall, 
Oh, how thermometers go up I 

And, oh, how stocks Jo fall ! 

The nights are full of music. 

Melodious Teuton troops 
Beguile us, calmly smoking 

On balconies and stoops. 
With e)-es half -shut, and dreamy, 

We watch the fire-rties' spark, 
And image far-off faces, 

As day dies into dark. 

The avenue is lonely. 

The houses choked with dust ; 
The shutters, barred and bolted. 

The bell-knobs all a-rust. 
No blossom-like spring dresses. 

No faces young and fair. 
From " Dickers " to "The Brunswick," 

No promenader there. 



The girls we used to walk with 

Are far away, alas! 
The feet that kissed its pavement 

Are deep in country gra.ss. 




"The nymphs of Echo Lake." 

Along the scented hedge-rows, 
Among the green old trees. 

Are blooming city faces 
'Neath rosy-lined pongees. 



so 



I'Ol.xr LACK AM) DIAMONDS. 



Thej-'rc cottaging at Newport; 

They're bathing at Cape May; 
In vSaratoga's ball-rooms 

They dance the hours away. 
Their voices through the quiet 

( )f haunted Catskill break ; 
Or rouse those dreamy dryads, 

The nymphs of Echo Lake. 

The hands we've led through (xermans, 
And squeezed, perchance, of yore, 

Now deftly grasp the bridle. 
The mallet, and the oar. 



The eyes that wrought our ruin 
On other men look down ; 

We're but the broken playthings 
They've left behind in town. 

Oh, happj^ Gran'dame Nature, 

Whose wandering children come 
To light with happy faces 

The dear old mother-home, 
lie tender with our darlings. 

Each merry inaiden bears 
Such love and longing with her — 

!Men's lives are wrapped in theirs. 



SLEEPING BEAUTY. 



A PARABLE. 



You remember the nursery legend — 

We heard in the early days, 
E're we knew of the world's deception 

Or walked in its dusty ways, 
And dwelt in the land of 
the fairies. 
Where the aii 
crolden haze — 



was 



Of the maid, o'er whom 
the Summers 
Of youth passed, like a 
swell 
Of melody all unbnjk- 
en. 
Till evil wrought its 
spell, 
And dream-embroidered 
curtains 
Of slumber round her 
fell. 




THK PRINCK ! 



The wood grew up round her castle, 

The centuries o'er it rolled. 

Wrapping its slumb'rous turrets 

In clinging robes of mould. 

And her name became a 
legend 
By Winter firesides 
told. 

Till the Prince came over 
the mountains 
In the morning-glow of 
}-outh ; 
The forest sank before 
him 
Like wrong before the 
truth, 
And he passed the dim 
old portal, 
AVith its warders .so 
uncouth. 



.\ riir-: moknmxg-gi.ow of 

VllflH." 



EASTER MORNING. 



51 



Woke with a kiss the Princess, 
And broke enchantment's chain. 

The sleepy old castle wondered. 
In its cobweb-cumbered brain. 

At the tide of life and pleasure 

That poured through each stony vein. 



And so love conquered an evil 
Centuries old in might, 

Scattering drowsy glamour, 
Piercing the murky night, 

Leading from thrall and darkness 
Beauty, and joy, and light. 



EASTER MORNING. 



Too early, of course ! How provoking ! 

I told Ma just how it would be. 
I might as well have on a wrapper. 

For there isn't a soul here to see. 
There I Sue Delaplaine's pew is empty, — 

I declare if it isn't too bad! 
I know my suit cost more than hers did. 

And I wanted to see her look mad. 
I do think that sexton's too stupid — 

He's put some one el.se in our pew — 
And the girl's dress just kilLs mine 
completely ; 

Now what am I going to do? 
The psalter, and Sue isn't here yet I 

I don't care, I think it's a sin 
For people to get late to service. 

Just to make a great show coming in. 
Perhaps she is sick, and can't get here — 

She said she'd a headache last night. 
How mad she'll be after her fussing! 

I declare, it would serve her just right. 
Oh, you've got here at last, my dear, have 
you ? 

Well, I don't think you need be so proud 
Of that bonnet, if Virot did make it ; 

It's horrid fast-looking and loud. 
What a dress I — for a girl in her senses 

To ofo on the street in lis^ht blue! — 



And those coat-sleeves — they wore them 
last Summer — 
Don't doubt, though, that she thinks 
they're new. 
Mrs. Gray's polonaise was imported — 

So dreadful I — a minister's wife, 
And thinking so much about fashion! — 

A pretty example of life! 
The altar's dressed sweetly. I wonder 
Who sent those white flowers for the 
font!— 
Some girl who's gone on the assistant — • 

Don't doubt it was Bessie LauK^nt. 
Just look at her now, little humbug! — 
vSo devout — I suppose she don't know 
That she's bending her head too far over, 
And the ends of her switches all show. 
What a sight Mrs. Ward is this morning! 

That woman will kill me some day, 
With her horrible lilacs and crimsons; 

Why will these old things dress so gay? 
And there's Jenny Welles with Fred 
Tracy- 
She's engaged to him now — horrid 
thing! 
Dear me! I'd keep on my glove some- 
times, 
If I did have a solitaire ring! 



52 



POINT LACE AND DIAMONDS. 



How can this girl next to me act so — 
The way tliat she turns round and 
stares. 

And then makes remarks about pe<.)ple; 
She'd better be saying her prayers. 

<.)h, dear, what a dreadful h)ng sermon! 
He must love to hear himself talk! 



And it's after twelve now, — how provok- 
ing! 

I wanted to have a nice walk. 
Through at last ! Well, it isn't so dreadful 

After all, for we don't dine till one; 
How can people say church is poky! — 

So wicked! — I think it's real fun. 






^^n 



.^i _^i 




•ANi) THH BHAUTIES WE'VE SIGHED FOR ALL SUMMER 
ARE HURRYING BACK INTO TOWN." 

Painted bv Francis Daw 



/ 






r 



W 



P A N C I 5 C A\Y 




'FHIGMT ld9' BY FREOERICIA A STOKtS 



THE " STAY-AT-HOMES ■• P/EAN. 




"Thk ki.oweks is the garden ake head." 

The evenings are damper and colder, 

The maples and sumacs are red, 
The wild Equinoctial is cominj,'-, 

The flowers in the garden are dead. 
The steamers are all overflowing. 

The railroads are all loaded down. 
And the beauties we've sighed for all 
Summer 

Are hurrying back into town. 

They come from the banks of the Hudson, 
From the sands of the Branch, and Cape 
:May ; 

From the parlors of bright Saratoga, 
From the dash of Niagara's spray. 

From misty, sea-salt Narragansett, 
From Mahopac's magical lake — 



They come on their way to new conquests, 
They're longing for more hearts to 
break. 

E'en Newport is dull and deserted — 

Its billowy beaches no more 
Made bright with sweet, ocean-kissed 
faces. 

Love's beacon-lights set on the shore. 
The rugged "White Hills of New Hamp- 
shire, 

The last of their lovers have seen, 
The echoes are left to their slumbers, 

No dainty feet thread the ravine. 

On West Point's delightful parade-ground 

Sighs many a hapless cadet, 
Who's basked through the long days of 
Summer 

In the smiles of a city cocjuette ; 
And now the incipient hero 

Beholds his enchantress depart, 
With the spoils of her lightly won triumph. 

His buttons, as well as his heart. 

Come, dry your eyes, Grandmother Nature, 

They care not a whit for your woe ; 
The city is calling her daughters — 

We can't spare them longer, they know — 
Our beautiful, tender-voiced darlings. 

With the blue of the deep .Summer skies. 
And the glow of the bright Summer sun- 
shine. 

Entrapped in their mischievous eyes. 



56 



POINT I.ACE AND IHAMONDS. 



Wc know their expenses are awful, 

That horror unsiieakablc fills 
The souls of unfortunate fathers 

Who foot up their dressmaker's hills. 
That they'd barter their souls for French 
eandy ; 

That diamonds ruin their peace; 
That they rave over middle-aged actors. 

And in other respects are — well, geese. 



Wc laugh at them, hoys, but we love 
them, 

l-'or under their nonsense we know 
They've hearts that are honest and loving, 

And souls that are whiter than snow. 
So out with that bottle of Roedererl 

Large glasses, boysl Up goes the cork! 
All charged? To the l)elles of creation — 

The u'lorions girls of New York. 



A SONG. 




■Her voice is genti.f., and ci.e.^r asd pure ; 

It RI.NC.S I.IKE THE CHIME OE .\ SILVER HEI.I. 



Si>KiNC.-iiMK is coming again, my 
dear ; 
Sunshine and violets blue, you 
know ; 
Crocuses lifting their sleepy heads 

Out of their sheets of snow. 
And I know a blossom sweeter by far 
Than violets blue, <.)r crocuses are. 

And bright as the sunbeam's glow. 
But how can I dare to look in her 
eyes. 
Colored with heaven's own hue? 
That woiddn't do at all, my dear, 
It really wouldn't do. 

Her hair is a rippling, tossing sea; 
In its golden depths the fairies play, 
, Heckoning, dancing, mocking there, 

Luring my heart away. 
And her merry lips are the ripest red 
That ever addled a poor man's head, 

Or led his wits astray. 
"What wouldn't I give to taste the 
sweets 



" LE DEKNIER JoUR l/UX C< ).\DA.MNE. ' 



■57 



Of those rose-leaves wet with dew ! 
But that wouldn't do at all, my dear, 
It really wouldn't do. 

Her voice is gentle, and clear and pure; 
It rings like the chime of a silver bell, 
And the thought it wakes in my foolish 
head 



I'm really afraid to tell. 
Her little feet kiss the ground below, 
And her hand is white as the whitest snow 

That e'er from heaven fell. 
But I wouldn't dare to take that hand, 

Reward for my love to sue ; 
That wouldn't do at all, my dear, 

It really wouldn't do. 



LE DFRNIHR |OUR DUN CONDAMNE." 



Old coat, for some three or four seasons 

We've been jolly comrades, but now 
We part, old companion, forever; 

To fate, and the fashion, I bow. 
You'd look well enough at a dinner, 

I'd wear you with pride at a ball ; 
But I'm dressing to-night for a wedding — 

My own — and you'd not do at all. 

You,'ve too many wine-stains about you, 

You're scented too much with cigars. 
When the gas-light shines full on your 
collar, 

It glitters with myriad stars. 
That wouldn't look well at my weddins.^; 

They'd seem inappropriate there — 
Nell doesn't use diamond powder. 

She tells me it ruins the hair. 

You've been out on Cozzens's piazza 
Too late, when the evenings were damp. 

When the moon-beams were silvering 
Cro'nest, 
And the lights were all out in the camp. 

You've rested on highly oiled stairways 
Too often, when sweet eyes were bright, 



And somebody's ball dre.ss — notNellie'.s— 
Flowed 'round you in rivers of white. 

There's a reprobate looseness about you ; 
Should I wear you to-night, I believe, 




As I come with my bride from the altar. 
You'd laugh in your wicked old sleeve, 

When you felt there the tremulous pressure 
Of her hand, in its delicate glove. 

That is telling me shyly, but proudly, 
Her trust is as deep as her love. 



58 



I'OIN'P I, ACE AND DIAMONDS. 



So, go to 3-our grave in the wardrobe, 
And furnish a feast for the moth, 

Nell's glove shall betray its sweet secrets 
To younger, more innocent cloth. 



'Tis time to put on 3'our successor — 
It's made in a fashion that's new; 

Old coat, I'm afraid it will never 
Sit as easily on me as you. 



PYROTECHNIC POLYGLOT. 



(MADISON StiUARK, JULY 4.) 



"Hk\, Jiihniiy Mcriinnis, where are yez? 

I've got a place I Arrah, be quick! " 
Whiz I Boom! "Hooray, there goes a 
rocket ; 

Hi, Johnny, look out for the shtick! " 
"Confound it, sir! Those are my feet, 
sir! " 

"Oh, Pa, lift me up, I can't see." 
"Come down out o' that, yez yoimg lilack- 
guards ! 

Div yez want to be killin' the tree? " 
" Hooray! look at that! " " Aint it bully! " 

"It's stuck!" "No, it aint." "There 
she goes! " 
" I wish that you'd speak to this man, Fred, 

He's standing all over my toes." 
" Take down that umbrella in front there !' 

" My! aint we afraid of our hat! " 
" Me heart's fairly broke wid yez shovin' — 

Have done now — what would yez be at? " 
" Jehiel, neow haint this jest orful 

I 'most wish I hedn't a come; 
Such actions I never — one would think 

Folks left their perliteness to hum." 
" Look here, now, you schoost stop dose 
schovin'." 



" By gar, den, get out from ze vay, 
Vou stupide Dootschmans, vilain 
cochon " — 
" Kreuz!" — " Peste!" — " Donnerwetter!" 
— " Sacr-r-re! " 
"Oh, isn't that cross just too lovely! 

So bright, why the light makes me 
wink!" 
"Your eyes, dear, are" — "don't be a 
goose, Fred ; 
What do you suppose folks will think?" 
Crash! vScreech! " Och, I'm kilt !"—" Fred, 
what is it? " 
" Branch broken — small boy come to 
grief. " 
'Boo, hoo, hoo, hoo! I wants mine 
muzzer! " 
"Look out there!" "Police!" "Hi, 
stop thief! " 
"Well, father, I guess it's all over; 
Just help Nelly down off the stool." 

MORAL. 

Sung: — " Mellican piecee fire bully! " 
Chino: — " Mellican man piecee fool." 



"YES, JACK, THERE WAS MY BRUNETTE. 
Painted by Francis Day. 



-S»s- *♦» 




FflANLlb PAV 



A LEGEND OF ST. VALENTINE. 



Come! Why, halloa, that you. Jack? 

How's the world been using you? 
Want your pipe? it's in the jar — 

Think I might be looking blue. 
Maud's been breaking off with me ; 

Fact — see here — I've got the ring. 
That's the note she sent it in; 

Read it — soothing sort of thing. 



<4^ 




' kKAK 11— S.HJllU:. 



iKI' UK TIllXc; 



Jack, you know I write sometimes — 

Must have read some things of mine. 
Well, I thought I'd just send 'Slaud 

Something for a valentine. 
So I groimd some verses out 

In the .softest kind of style. 
Full of love, and that, you know — 

Bothered me an awful while; 
Quite a heavy piece of work. 

So when I had got them done — 
Why I thought them much too good 

Just to waste that waj' on one. 
Jack, I told you, didn't I, 



All about that black-eyed girl 
Up in Stratford — last July — 

Oh ! you know ; j'ou saw her curl ? 
Well, old fellow, .she's the one 

That this row is all about, 
For I sent her — who'd have thought 

Maud would ever find it out — 
Those same verses, word for word — 

Hang it, man! you needn't roar — 
" Splendid joke! " well, so I thought- 
No, don't think so any more. 
Yesterday, you know it rained, 

I'd been up late — at a ball— 
Didn't know what else to do — 

Went up and made Maud a call. 
Found some other girl there, too. 

They were playing a duet. 
"Fred, my cousin, Nelly Deane," — 

Yes, Jack, there was my brunette ; 
You sho^ild just have seen me, Jack- 
Now, old fellow, please don't laugh, 
I feel bad about it — fact — 

And I really can't stand chaiT. 
Well, I tried to talk to Maud; 

There was Nell, though, sitting by; 
Every now and then she'd laugh. 

Sure I can't imagine why. 
Maud would read that beastly poem, 

Nell's eyes said in just one glance, 
" Wont I make )'ou pay for this. 

If I ever get the chance ! " 
Some one came and rang the bell — 

Just a note for Nell, by post. 
Jack, I saw my monogram — ■ 

I'd have rather seen a ghost. 



62 



POINT LACK AM) DIAMONDS. 



Yes — her verses — I suppose 

That her folks had sent them dowii — 
Couldn't get up there, you know — 

Till she'd left and come to town. 
Xelly looked them quickly through — 

Laughed — by Jove, I thought she'd 
choke 1 
■'Maud — he'll kill me — dearl oh, dear! — 

Read that; isn't it a joke? " 
Maud glanced through them — sank right 
down 



On the sofa — hid her face — 

■' Crying! " — not much — laughing, Jack*- 
Don't think she's a hopeless case. 

I just grabbed my hat and left — 
Only wish I'd gone before. 

How they laughed! — I heard them, Jack- 
Till I got outside the door. 

There, confession's done me good, 
I can never win her back, 

So I 11 calmly let her slide — 

Pass the ash-cup, will ytni, Jack? 




MATINAL MUSINGS. 



Ten o'clock ! "Well, I'm sure I can't help it ! 

I'm up — go away from the door! 
Now, children, I'll speak to your mother 

If yovL pound there like that any more. 



I wish I'd not danced quite so often — 
I knew I'd feel tired! but it's hard 

To refuse a magnificent dancer 

If you have a place left on your card 



How tired I do feel ! — Where's that 
cu.shion? — 

I don't want to move from this chair; 
I wish Marie'd make her appearance! 

I really ar//'/ do my own hair. 



I was silly to wear that green satin, 

It's a shame that I've spotted it so- 
All down the front breadth — it's just 
ruined — • 
No trimming will hide that. 1 know. 



.MATI.NAl. MUSINGS, 



63 



That's me! Have a costume imported, 
And spoil it the very first night! — 

I mijrht make an overskirt of it, 

That shade looks so lovely with white. 

How horrid my eyes look ! Good jjracioiis ! 

I hope that I didn't catch cold 
: fitting out on the stairs with Will Stacy; 

If Ma knew that, wouldn't she scold! 

She says he's so fast — well, who isn't? — 
Dear! where is Marie? — how it rains! — 

I don't care; he's real nice and handsome. 
And his talk sounds as if he'd some 
brains. 

I do wonder what is the reason. 

That good men are all like Joe Price, 

So poky, and stiff, and conceited. 
And fast ones are always so nice. 

Just see how Joe acted last evening! 

He didn't come near me at all. 
Because I danced twice with Will Stacy 

That night at the Charity Ball. 

I didn't care two pins to do it; 

But Joe said I mustn't, — and so — 
I just did — he isn't my master. 

Nor shant be, I'd like him to know. 

I don't think he looked at me even. 

Though just to please him I wore 
green,— 



And I'd saved him three elegar.t dances, — 
/wouldn't have acted so mean. 

The way he went on with Nell Hadley; 

Dear mc ! just as if I would care ! 
I'd like to see those two get manned, 

They'd make a congenial pair! 

I'm getting disgusted with parties; — 
I think I shall stop going out ; 

What's the use of this fussing for people 
I don't care the least bit about. 

I (//(/think that Joe had some sense once; 

But, my, he's just like all the men! 
And the way that I've gone en about 
him, 

Just see if I do it again ! 

Only wait till the next time I sec him, 
I'll pay him back; wont I be cool! 

I've a good mind to drop him completely — 
I'll — yes I will — go back to school. 

The bell! — who can that be, I wonder! — 
Let's see — I declare! why, it's Joe! — 

How long they are keeping him waiting! 
Good gracious! why don't the girl go! — 

Yes — say I'll be down in a minute — 
Quick, Marie, and do up my hair! — 

Not that bow — the green one — Joe likes 
it — 
How slow you are! — I'll pin it — there! 



AN AFTERTHOUC'.HT. 



Vine leaves rustled, moon- 
beams shone, 

Summer breezes softly 
sighed ; 
You and I were all alone 

In a kingdom fair and 
wide — 

You, a Queen, in all 
your pride, 

I, a vassal by youf 
side. 

Fairy voices in the leaves 

Ceaselessly were whis- 
pering : 
" 'Tis the time to gamer 
sheaves — 

Let your heart its long- 
ing sing; 

Place upon her hand a 
ring, 

Then our Queen shall 
know her Kin<r. " 




' Look into her face, and know- 
That SHE IS A JEWEL RARE." 



Rut the night wind mur- 
mured low, 

vSoftly brushing back 
your hair, 
'■ Look into her face, and 
know 

That she is a jewel rare, 

Worthy of a monarch's 
heir; 

Who are you that you 
shoitld dare! " 

Hope died like a frost- 
touched flovi'er ; 

But through all the com- 
ing years. 
In that quiet evening hour, 

When the flowers are all 
in tears. 

When the heart hath 
hopes and fears. 

When the day-world dis- 
appears, — 



E'en the moonbeams seemed to learn 
Speech when they had kissed your face. 

Passing fair — my lips did yearn 
To be moonbeams for a space — 
" Lo, 'tis fitting time and place I 
Speak, and courage will find grace. " 



If the vine leaves rustle low. 
If the moon shine on the sea. 

If the night wind softly blow, — 
Dreaming of what may not be, — 
Well I know that I shall see 
Your sweet eves look down on me. 



"THE DEBUTANTES ARE IN FORCE TO-NIGHT, 
SWEET AS THEIR ROSES, PURE AS TRUTH." 

PaiiitCil bv Francis Daw 






^Bg—' 




^ 





/f'.. 



a 



\ 



1^ 'it ■ • 'Ah,^-, 



'X 



,J 



r_ DAY 




THE MOTHERS OF THE SIRENS. 



The debutantes are in force to-night, 

Sweet as their roses, pure as truth ; 
Dreams of beauty in clouds of tulle ; 

Blushing, fair in their guileless youth. 
Flashing bright glances carelessly— 

Carelessly, think you ! Wait and see 
How their sweetest smile is kept for him 

Whom " mother" considers a goodparti. 

For the matrons watch and guard them 
well- 
Little for youth or love care they ; 
The man they seek is the man with gold, 
Though his heart be black, and his hair 
be gray. 
" Nellie, how could you treat /lim sol 

You know very well he is Goldmore's 
heir." 
"Jennie, look modest! Glance down and 

blush, — 
Here comes Papa with young Millionaire." 



On a cold, graj^ rock, in Grecian seas, 

The sirens sit, and their glamour try — 
Warm white bosoms press harps of gold, 

The while Ulysses' ship sails by. 
Fair are the forms the sailors see. 

Sweet are the songs the sailors hear 
And — cool and wary, shrewd and old. 

The sirens' mothers are watching near, 

Whispering counsel — "Fling back your 
hair, 
It hides your shoulder." "Don't sing 
so fast ! " 
"Darling, Jon't look at that fair young 
man. 
Try that old fellow there by the mast. 
His arms are jewelled " — let it go! 

Too bitter all this for an idle rhyme , 
But sirens are kin of the gods, be sure. 
And change but little with lapse of 
time. 



A ROMANCE OF THE SAW-DUST. 



Suthin' to put in a storj-! 

I couldn't think of a thing, 
'N' it's nigh unto thirty year now 

vSince fust I went in the ring. 
"The life excitin'? " Thunder! 

"Variety," did you say? 
You must have cur'us notions 

'Bout circuses, anywaj-. 
The things that look so risky 

Aint nothin' to us but biz. 



" Accidents" — falls and sich like? 

Sometimes, in course, there is. 
But it's only a slip, or a stumble. 

Some feller laid out flat, 
It don't take more'n a second; 

There aint no story in that. 
'N' like as not, the tumble 

Don't do no harm at all : 
There's one gal here — I tell yer. 

She got an awful fall. 



68 



rOIXT LACE AND IJIAMO.NDS. 



Voii know her — Ma'am'sellc Ida — 

She's Jimmy Barnet's wife, 
The prettiest little woman 

Vou ever see in your lii'c. 
They was lovers when they was youn<j uns, 

No more'n two hands high. 
She nussed Jim through a fever once, 

When the doctors swore he'd die. 




L'J 



I taught 'em both the motions; 

She never know'd no fear, 
And they've done the trapeze together 

For more'n a couple o' year. 
Last Summer we took on a Spaniard, 

A mis'rable kind of cuss, 
Spry feller — but awful tempered, 

Always a-makin' a fuss. 
He wanted to marry Ida — 

His chance was pretty slim, 



He did his best, but bless yer. 

She'd never go back on Jim. 
He acted up so foolish, 

Tliat Jim, one day, got riled 
'N' guv him a reg'lar whalin' ; 

That druv the Spaniard wild. 
He talked like he was crazy, 

'N' raved around, and .swore 
He'd kill 'em both ; but Jim just laughed— 

He'd heer'd such talk before. 
One day, when we was showin' 

In a little country town, 
Jim mashed his hand with a hatchet, 

Drivin' a tent-.stake down. 
He couldn't work that night, nohow. 

But the "trap " hed got to be done. 
The Spaniard said he'd try it — 

'N' they had to take him or none. 
I knew Jim didn't like it. 

'N' Ide looked scared and white — 
" Look out for me, boys," she whispered, 

" I'm goin' to fall to-night; " 
Then she looked up with a shiver 

At the trapeze swingin' there, 
A couple of bars and a rope or two 

Forty feet up in the air. 
But up she dumb — he arter — 

Stood up, but how Ide shook. 
Then the Spaniard yelled like a devil, 

"Now look, Jim Bamet! — look I " — 
With that he jumped 'n' gripped her; 

She fought, but he broke her hold. 
Grabbed at the rope, 'n' missed it — 

Off of the bar they rolled. 
Clinched, 'n' Ide a-screamin' ; 

Thud I — they struck the ground ; 
I turned all sick and dizzy, 

'N' ever\'thing went round. 



NOCTURNE. 



69 



How still it were for a second! — 

It seemed like an hour — 'n' then 
The women was all a-screechin', 

'N' the ring was full of men. 
Poor Jim was stoopin' to lift her, 

But flopped right down, "n" said, 
Sez he, " Her lips is movin' ! 

She's breathin' ! — She isn't dead! 
For sure! — he'd fallen under; 

It kinder broke her fall ; 
Except the scare and a broken arm, 

She wa,sn't hurt at all. 



" The Spaniard? " Oh, it killed him ; 

It broke his cussed neck. 
But nobody cried their eyes out. 

As near as I reckeleck. 
She married Jim soon arter, 

They're doin' the trapeze still ; 
So, 3-er see, as I was sayin'. 

These falls don't always kill. 
'N' as for things excitin' 

To put in a ston% — well, 
I'd really like to oblige yer. 

Rut then there aint nothin" to tell 



NOCTURNE. 



Su.M.MER is over, and the leaves are tail- 
in^ 
Gold, fire-enamelled in the glowing sun ; 
The sobbing pinetop, the cicada calling 
Chime men to vesper-musing, day is 
done. 

The fresh, green sod, in dead, dry leaves 
is hidden; 
They rustle very sadly in the breeze ; 
Some breathing from the past comes, all 
unbidden. 
And in my heart stir withered memories. 



Day fades away; the stars show in the 
azure. 
Bright with the glow of eyes that know 
not tears. 
Unchanged, unchangeable, like God's j\Ien tell us that the stars it knows are 
good pleasure, leaving 

They smile and reck not of the weary Our onward rolling globe, and in their 

years. place 




'Summer is over. .\xn the le.wes are f.\lling." 



70 POINT LACE AND DIAMONDS. 



New constellations rise — is death bereav- Of their world than of ours; for here 

injj we seem 

The old earth, too, of each familiar face? Alone in haunted houses, and we won- 
der 
Our loved ones leave us; so we all grow Which is the waking life, and which the 

fonder dream. 



'•BUT YOULL HAVE TO SIT ON THE RAILING- 
YOU SEE THERE IS ONLY ONE CHAIR." 

Painted bv Francis Day. 





r?-.A 




J'»* 





.■^Ir- 




■fP»**"^P»l^ 



FRANCIS D /. r 



oiiHl. 16^1 UT ^HCtr£Rl^ 



LAKE MAHOPAC— SATURDAY NIGHT. 



" Yes, I'm here, I suppose you're delighted; 'Seems years' — oh! of course — don't look 

You'd heard I was not coming down'. spooney, 

Why, I've been here a week! — 'rather It isn't becoming, you know, 

early ' — 

I know, but it's horrid in town. 

A Boston? Most certainly, thank you. 

This music is perfectly sweet; 
Of course I like dancing in Summer; 

It's warm, but I don't mind the heat. 

The clumsy thing! Oh! how he hurt nic! 

I really can't dance any more — 
Let's walk — see, they're forming a 
Lancers ; 

These square dances are such a bore. 




My cloak — oh! I really don't need it — 
Well, carry it, — so, in the folds — 

I hate it, but Ma made me bring it; 
She's frightened to death about colds. 

This is rather cooler than dancing. 

They're lovely piazzas tip here; 
Those lanterns look sweet in the bushes, 

It's lucky the night is so clear. 

I am rather tired — in this corner? — 
Very well, if you like — I don't care — 

But you'll have to sit on the railing— 
You see there is only one chair. 

'So long since you've .seen me' — oh, 
ages! — 
Let's see, why it's ten days ago — 



"Tub ^•IGH•r is so clear." 

How bright the stars seem to-night, don't 
they? 

What was it you said about eyes? 
How sweet ! — why you must be a poet — 

One never can tell till he tries. 

Why can't you be sensible, Harry! 

I don't like men's arms on my chair. 
Be still ! if you don't stop this nonsense 

I'll get up and leave you; — so there! 

Oh ! please don't — I don't want to hear it— 
A boy like you talking of love. 

'My answer!' — Well, sir, you shall have 
it- 
Just wait till I get off my glove. 



74 



I'OI.N'T LACE AND DIAMONDS. 



See that? — Well, j-ou needn't look tragic, 

It's only a solitaire ring, — 
Of course I am ' proud of it ' — very — 

It's rather an elegant thing. 

Engagedl — yes — why, didn't you know it? 

I thoiight the news must have reached 
here — 
Why, the wedding will be in October — 

The ' happy man ' — Charley Leclear. 

Now don't blame me — I tried to stop you — 
But you would ^o on like a goose; 



I'm sorry it happened — forget it — 

Don't think of it — don't — what's the use? 

There's somebody coming — don't look so — 
Get up on the railing again — 

Can't you seem as if nothing had happened? 
I never saw such geese as men ! 

Ah, Charley, you've found me I A galop? 

The ' Bahn frei? ' Yes; take my bou- 
quet — 
And my fan, if you will — now I'm read}'— 

You'll excuse me, of course, Mr. Gray." 



AUTO-DA-FE. 



(he explains.) 
Oh, just burning up some old papers. 

They do make a good deal of smoke : 
That's right, Dolly, open the window; 

They'll blaze if you give them a poke. • 
I've got a lot more in the closet; 

Just look at the dust ! What a mess ! 
Why, read it, of course, if you want to, 

It's only a letter, I guess. 

(she reads.) 
Just me, and my pipe, and the fire-light, 

Whose mystical circles of red 
Protect me alone with the shadows; 

The smoke-wreaths engarland my head ; 
And the strains of a waltz, half forgotten, 

The favorite waltz of the year, 
Plaj'-ed softly by fairy musicians. 

Chime sweetly and low on my ear. 

The smoke-cloud floats thickly around me, 
All perfumed and white, till it seems 



A bride-veil magicians have woven 
To honor the bride of my dreams. 

Float on, dreamy waltz, through my 
fancies, 
My thoughts in your harmony twine ! 

Draw near, phantom face, in your beaut}'. 
Look deep, phantom eyes, into mine. 

Sweet lips — crimson buds half unfolded — 

Give breath to the exquisite voice. 
That, waking the strands of my being 

To melody, bids me rejoice. 
Dream, soul, till the world's dream is 
ended ! 

Dream, heart, of your beautiful past! 
For dreaming is better than weeping. 

And all things but dreams at the last. 

Change rules in the world of the wak- 
ing- 
Its laughter aye ends in a sigh; 



AUT(i-L)A-l-E. 



75 



Dreams only are changeless — immortal: 
A love-dream alone cannot die. 

Toil, fools ! Sow your hopes in the furrows, 
Rich harvest of failure you'll reap; 

Life's riddle is read the most truly 
By men who but talk in their sleep. 



I left in a state quite pathetic, 

And went home to scribble that rhyme. 

What a boy I was then with my dream- 
ing, 
And reading the riddle of life I 




'The j.MOKE-WKK.MIl.; ENG.\KL.\N1> .M>' iik.kd. 



(he remonstrates ) 
There, stop! That'll do — yes, I own it — 
But, dear, I was young then, you know. 
I wrote that before we were married ; 
Let's see — why, it's ten years ago! 
You remember that night, at Drake's 
party. 
When you flirted with Dick all the time? 



You gave a good guess at its meaning 

The night you said "Yes," little wife. 
One kiss for old times' sake, my Dolly — 

That didn't seem much like a dream. 
Holloa! something's wrong with the 
children ! 
Those young ones do nothing but 
scream. 



ZWEI KONIGE AUF ORKADAL 



FROM THE GERMAN. 



Therk sat two kings The other answered in yloomy scorn, 

Tipon Orkadal, "She's mine, oh, brother 1 — my oath is 

The torches flamed in sworn." 

tlic pillared hall. 

No other word spake either king- — 

-'The minstrel sings, the In their golden sheaths the keen swords 

red wine glows, rmg. 

The twcj kings drink 

with gloomy brows. Together they pass from the lighted hall- 
Deep lies the snow by the castle-wall. 

( )iit spake the one, — 

'■ (rive me this girl, Steel-sparks and torch-sparks in showers 
With her sea-bine eyes, and brow of fall — 

pearl." Two kings lie dead upon Orkadal. 




"THH SUNBEAMS LIT HER GLEAMING HAIR 
WITH RIPPLING WAVES OF GOLDEN GLORY." 

Painted bv Francis Day. 





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CHIVALRIE. 



I 



Under the maple boughs we sat, 

Annie Leslie and I together; 
She was trimming her sea-side hat 

With leaves — we talked about the 
weather. 

The sunbeams lit her gleaming hair 
With rippling waves of golden glor)-, 

And ej-es of blue, and ringlets fair, 
Suggested many an ancient story 

Of fair-haired, blue-eyed maids of old. 
In durance held by grim magicians, 



Of knights in armor rough with gold. 
Who rescued them from such positions. 

Above, the heavens aglow with light, 
Beneath our feet the sleeping ocean, 

E'en as the sky my hope was bright, 
Deep as the sea was my devotion. 

Her father's voice came through the 
wood, 

He'd made a fortune tanning leather; 
I was liis clerk : I thought it good 

To keep on talking about the weather. 




REDUCTIO AD ABSURDUM. 



I HAD come from the city early 
That Saturday afternoon ; 
I sat with Beatrix under the trees 
In the mossy orchard ; the golden bees 
Buzzed over clover-tops, pink and pearly; 
I was at peace, and inclined to spoon. 



We were stopping awhile with mother. 
At the quiet country place 
Where first we'd met, one blossomy May, 
And fallen in love — so the dreamy day 
Brought to my memory many another 
In the happy time when I won her grace. 



80 I'DIXT LACE AM) DIAMONDS. 



Days in the bright Spring weather, She turned and rested her blushing face 

When the twisted, rough old tree Against my shoulder; a sunbeam falling 

Showered down apple-blooms, dainty and Through the leaves above us crowned 

sweet, her head. 
That swung in her hair, and blushed at 

her feet; And .so I held her, trusting 

Sweet was her face as we lingered together. That none was by to see ; 

And dainty the "kisses my love gave me. A sad mistake — for low, but clear, 

This feminine comment reached my 

" Dear love, are you recalling ear; 

The old days, too? " I said. " Married for ages — it's just disgusting — 

Her sweet eyes filled, and with tender Such actions — and, Fred, they've got 

grace our tree 1 " 



PER ASPERA AD ASTRA. 

A CANV.As-B.^cK duck, rarely roasted. You say Lilli Lehman sang quite too 

between us, divinely — 

A bottle of Chambertin, worthy of I know I can't lose on that last deal in 

praise — stocks. 

Less noble a wine at our age would bemean Without waits our footman to call for our 

us — carriage — 

A salad of celery en mayonnaise, Gad, how he must hate us, out there in 

With the oysters we've eaten, fresh, plump, the cold 1 — 

and delicious. We rode in a hack on the day of our 

Naught left of them now but a dream marriage, 

and the shells; Number two forty-six — I was rolling in 

No better souper e'en Lucullus could wish gold, 

us — 

Why, even our waiter regards us as swells. t7„,. tvi „„,-^.. cc^ in i i •. 

•" *' for 1 d quite fifty dollars; and don t you 

remember 

Your dress is a marvel, your jewels show We drove down to Taylor's — a long 

finely, cherished dream : 

Your friends in the circle all envied Ht)\v grandly I ordered — just think, in 

your box ; December ! — 



PER ASI'I;RA AU ASTRA. 



8i 




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1 



"YOUR FRIENDS IN THE CIRCLE ALL ENVIED VOUR BOX.' 



» 



Some cake, and two plates of vanilla And daughters just out, whose sneers 

ice-cream. make you wince, 

And how we enjoyed it I Your glance We've tasted the fruit of Society's 

was the proudest knowledge — 

Among the proud beauties, your face I don't think we've quite enjoyed 

the most fair ; anything since. 

I'm rather afraid, too, your laugh was the All through, dear? Now, tio/i'f wipe your 

loudest ; mouth with the doily ! 

I know we shocked every one — we didn't They're really not careful at all with 

care. their wine; 

It wasn't half warmed — the salad was oily — 
Now we'd care a great deal — with two And I don't think the duck was remark- 
sons at college, ably fine. 



THE LANGUAGE OE LOVE. 



On I he was a student of mystic lore: 

And she was a soidful girl, 
All nerves and mind, of the cultured 
kind 

The paragon, pride, and pearl. 

They loved with a nco-Concordic love, 
Woofed weirdly with wistful woe. 

They sat in a glen, remote from men, 
Their converse was high and low. 

"What marvellous words of marvellous 
love 
Speak marvellous .souls like tb.ese?" 



I drew me niglT till their faintest sigh 
Was heard with the greatest ease. 

" 'Oo's 'ittle white lammy is 'oo? " 
breathed he: 
" 'Oors. 'Oo's lovey-dovey is "oo' 
"'Oors! 'Oors! Would 'oo k y if dovey 
should die?" 
"Xo'p! — tause 'ittle lammy'd die too." 

How truthful we poets! The " language 
of Love " 

Is a phrase we employ full oft ; 
But whenever wc do, we prefi.x thereto. 

You've noticed, the adjective "soft." 



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